


stealing bases

by poetictragedy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Biting, Deepthroating, Hair Pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Scratching, sex on the first date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan never thought he'd be going on a date with a baseball player but he is. More specifically, he's going out with Tyler Hoechlin, shortstop for the San Francisco Giants, and someone that Dylan has had a crush on for quite a while.</p>
<p>And Tyler doesn't know that Dylan has a serious baseball fetish so he takes him to the batting cages... where he only enables Dylan's fetish and that prompts him to take what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stealing bases

**Author's Note:**

> First -- the personalities in this fic are probably a little off and I apologize.  
> Second -- my knowledge of baseball is rusty and, well, I probably screwed some things up.  
> And finally -- I know the title is lame, it's the only thing I could come up with.
> 
> Please don't come after me with torches if I got something wrong. :s
> 
> (Also, I apologize for any mistakes, spelling or grammar wise.)

“So, are you going to tell me about the guy you’re going on a date with?” Tyler asks, flicking his ashes over the railing, and Dylan watches him return the cigarette to his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he inhales deeply. It hadn’t crossed his mind, really, and he doesn’t know how to tell his best friend that he’s going out with a professional baseball player.

Part of Dylan doesn’t want to say anything but he knows that his roommate will find out anyway, when Tyler comes to pick him up. He sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees before cupping his chin in his palms, staring out across the yard, listening to Tyler exhale.

“Promise you won’t say anything,” he says, after a moment, as he turns to look at his friend, chewing on the middle of his lip. “I’m nervous enough and I don’t want you to make it worse because I  _know_  you will.”

Snorting, Tyler taps his thumb against the filter of his cigarette and glares at Dylan, shaking his head slowly, a grin spreading across his face. “I won’t say anything, I promise,” he says and Dylan swallows thickly, nodding.

“Do you know who Tyler Hoechlin is?”

Tyler scrunches his face up and shrugs. “Sounds familiar.”

“He’s the shortstop for the San Francisco Giants,” Dylan mutters and he looks away before Tyler can say anything, not wanting to see the look on his face. He knows that it’ll only make his stomach twist even more and he already wants to throw up, he doesn’t need Tyler to make it happen.

Silence hangs between them and then Tyler laughs. 

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Tyler says between giggles and then he sighs heavily. “Are you really going out with Hoechlin or are you juts pulling my leg because this isn’t funny.”

Dylan blinks and looks at Tyler, pulling his brows together. “I’m being serious.”

The look on Tyler’s face is one of elation and Dylan covers his own face, rubbing his palms down until they drop onto his lap again. He should have known it was a bad idea to tell Tyler he was dating Hoechlin and now he’ll never hear the end of it.

“You think he’ll autograph something for me?” Tyler asks and, god, Dylan wants to smack him. “Or for my mom? My girlfriend?”

“He’s going on a date with  _me_ , not you.”

Tyler pouts and puts his cigarette out in the ashtray. “I know but it’d still be cool, you know?”

As soon as Dylan opens his mouth to reply, the doorbell rings and he glares at Tyler, who runs inside before he can stop him. Groaning, Dylan gets up and follows him, rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache coming along. He hopes that Tyler doesn’t embarrass him too much because he really,  _really_ wants to go out on a date with Tyler Hoechlin.

When the door opens, Tyler motions to the living room and says, “Come in.”

“Uh, I think I got the wrong address. Does Dylan live here?”

Dylan turns red and chews on his lip. “You got the right place,” he says and chuckles nervously as he comes forward, elbowing Tyler in the ribs. “Sorry, my roommate wanted to answer the door and embarrass me but I think it’s time for him to leave and call his girlfriend, right?”

“Actually,” Tyler says with a smirk, “I was hoping to ask for an autograph.”

_I’m going to kill him_ , Dylan thinks and he sighs, biting his lip harder.

Much to Dylan’s surprise, his date comes in and removes his hands from his leather jacket, rubbing his palms together. “I guess I’ve got a few minutes to sign something,” he says and looks at Dylan with a wink. “You okay with that?”

“Um,” Dylan starts but Tyler cuts him off before he can say no.

“Of course he is! Lemme go get my baseball.” Grinning, Tyler shuts the door and hurries off upstairs, muttering happily under his breath. Dylan can feel his cheeks burn and lifts both hands to cover his face, sighing against his palms.

Tyler chuckles and moves over, bumping their shoulders together. “What’s the matter?”

“Huh?” Dylan asks, dropping his hands to look at Tyler, who’s smiling at him and he suddenly forgets that he wants to beat the shit out of his roommate for asking his date for an autograph. “Nothing’s wrong, I just wish he wouldn’t do this,” he mutters.

“Do what?”

“Embarrass me and ask for an autograph. I’m sure you get enough of that..”

Shrugging, Tyler smiles and wets his lips slowly. “It’s alright. I’ve gotten used to it,” he replies and winks at Dylan again before Tyler returns, jumping off the bottom step.

“Okay,” he huffs and comes over to to Tyler and Dylan, “I got my baseball, but I couldn’t find anything for you to sign for my girlfriend or mother.”

“Can you  _not_  harass my date?!”

Tyler glares at Dylan and turns to his date, smiling. “The baseball will be good enough. I’ll get something else later and maybe you can sign it when you and Dylan go on another date.”

That makes Dylan blush even more and he mumbles about going to get his jacket before leaving both men downstairs. He goes up to his room and chews anxiously on his lower lip, moving slowly as he walks around, looking for his hoodie. When he finds it, Dylan pulls it over his head and straightens it, shoving both hands into the pocket as heads back downstairs.

Dylan’s roommate is nowhere to be found and he breathes a sigh of relief, stepping off the bottom stair before going over to Tyler, smiling. “Let’s get out of here before he asks you to take a picture with him,” he says and laughs, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

“He already did that,” Tyler mumbles but he’s smiling, which makes Dylan feel like he’s okay with all of this. Who knows, maybe he’ll get a second date. “But, yeah, we should probably get going.”

On their way out of the house, Dylan yells goodbye to his friend and hops off the porch steps, walking toward the shiny, brand new Mustang sitting in his driveway. He whistles under his breath and shakes his head, turning to look at Tyler with an eyebrow raised.

“What?”

Smirking, Dylan points over his shoulder at the car and says, “Nice wheels.”

“It’s one of the perks of winning the World Series,” Tyler replies and he laughs when Dylan’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” 

Dylan’s brows furrow and he shrugs, following Tyler to the car. He goes around to the passenger side and climbs in, settling back against the seat as Tyler slips in behind the wheel, sighing as he shuts the door. During the time he spends turning the car on and getting situated in the seat, Dylan can’t take his eyes off him and he bites his lip whenever Tyler glances at him.

After putting his seat belt on, Tyler puts the car in reverse and backs out into the street before shifting into drive. The tires squeal against the pavement as he guns it down the road and Dylan lets out a quiet moan, thankful for the noisy engine drowning his noise out because if Tyler heard him? That would be embarrassing.

“So,” Dylan says after a moment as he glances out the window, “where are we going?”

“That’s a secret.”

A small huff comes from Dylan’s mouth and he turns to look at Tyler. “You can’t give me the teeniest of hints? Not even hand gestures?” As he speaks, Dylan flails his hands about and Tyler glances at him, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Anything?”

“We’re going to have the place all to ourselves,” Tyler answers and Dylan laughs because what kind of hint is that? They could have had Dylan’s house all to themselves if Tyler had been visiting his girlfriend for the weekend.

Then it hits him: Tyler’s taking him back to his place.

He’s going to the home of a professional baseball player.

Holy. fucking _. shit._ Dylan is not prepared for this.

Clearing his throat, Dylan sinks down on the seat and brings his knees up. “So, what, we’re going back to your place, then?” The words just come from his mouth and Dylan bites down on his lip, wishing he hadn’t said that.

 ”Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you said — and I quote — that we’ll have the place all to ourselves. Either we’re going to your house or an abandoned warehouse somewhere,” Dylan answers, scrunching his face up as he turns to look at Tyler.

And, not surprisingly, Tyler laughs at him. That warm, deep, rich laugh that Dylan could listen to for hours and hours. Even days, if he were ever to be so lucky.

Tyler calms down enough to say, “We’re not going to my place _or_  an abandoned warehouse but if you really want to know, I can tell you.”

Dylan considers this for a moment and shakes his head. “I’ll be surprised,” he says.

“It won’t be too long until we get there.” Tyler moves his hand from the gearshift and pats Dylan’s leg lightly, letting his fingers brush across his thigh before they’re wrapping around the gearshift again. He downshifts and Dylan tries to breathe again because  _Tyler fucking Hoechlin_  just touched his leg.

He’s died and gone to Heaven, surely.

*****

Fifteen minutes later, Tyler pulls the car into a parking lot and kills the engine before turning to look at Dylan with a smile. “We’re here,” he says before climbing out and stretching, making noises that sound like they belong in a porn movie.

“Where is  _here_ exactly?” Frowning, Dylan gets out of the car and rolls his shoulders, listening to his joints pop as he looks at where they’re at.

They were at the batting cages.

_Of course_.

Dylan turns to look at Tyler and opens his mouth to say something before closing it, pressing his lips together. He should have known that Tyler would take him out on a baseball-y date but did it have to be the batting cages? It had been years since Dylan went to them and, the last time he did, he was horrible at it.

Like,  _getting-hit-in-the-side-with-a-baseball_  horrible.

“I thought I’d teach you how to hit a baseball,” Tyler says and he smiles apologetically as he comes over to Dylan, sighing softly. “I mean, that is if you  _don’t_  already know how to hit one. If you do, we can just goof around. That’s basically all we’re going to do here anyway.”

Chuckling, Dylan shakes his head and swallows. “I’m pretty bad at baseball,” he admits and his cheeks burn, along with the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

“That’s fine. I’m pretty good.”

_Smug motherfucker._

“I’ve heard that, you know,” Dylan says and he laughs as they head inside, Tyler’s hand finding his. Their fingers tangle together and Dylan thinks that, for a moment, he stops breathing. It’s not until they’re standing in front of the bats and helmets that he realizes that no, he’d been breathing the entire time.

Tyler drops Dylan’s hand and grabs a helmet, slipping it on. “I didn’t know people talked about my batting,” he mumbles as he goes down the line of bats, trying to pick the best one out.

“Are you kidding me? My dad calls me after  _every_  Giants game and he brags about how good you are, dude.” Shaking his head, Dylan follows Tyler and picks up a helmet, slipping it on quickly. “What kind of bat are you looking for?”

“Just looking.” 

Dylan snorts and picks up a random bat, weighing it in his hand. “Do you really need to have a special bat for this kind of thing or is it all preference?”

“For me it’s all about my preference but for you? It should be fine,” Tyler says as he picks a Louisville Slugger off the rack, swinging it back and forth in front of his legs, nodding. He wraps his hands around the handle and lifts it, bending his elbows a little before swinging it, letting his arms extend before he drops the bat to his side.

And that is, hands down, one of the hottest things Dylan has ever seen.

Tyler looks up at Dylan and licks his lips, smiling. “You ready?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m ready… I guess.”

When Tyler heads over to the cages, Dylan follows him and scratches the back of his neck, wondering how badly Tyler is going to laugh at him when he sees that he can’t hit a ball for shit. He watches his date open the door, motioning for Dylan to go inside with his bat, a smile on his face.

Swallowing thickly, Dylan steps into the cage and huffs. “You’re going to laugh at how bad I am,” he mutters as he steps up to the plate and glances down the corridor at the pitching machine. “What if I get hit with a ball?”

“You won’t get hit with one,” Tyler says and chuckles, putting the last coin into the machine before standing beside the cage. “But, if you do, I will drive you to the hospital and hold your hand the entire way.”

“Who’s going to shift gears in the — oh my fucking  _god_!” Dylan shrieks and jumps out of the way when a ball zooms past him, hitting the fence. “ _Jesus Christ_ , that was fast! What speed are those things set to?”

Tyler laughs and covers his mouth, clearing his throat quickly. “Ninety,” he answers and Dylan turns to look at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “What? It’s the speed I like and I figured I’d give you a challenge.”

“You’re an  _asshole_.”

“I’ve been told that too,” Tyler replies with a smirk and points his bat toward the end of the cage, tipping his head forward. “Another one’s coming.”

When Dylan turns, he huffs and bends his knees, lifting the bat with his elbows bent slightly. He watches the machine down the way and swings when the ball comes close, but it goes past him, hitting the fence like the first one. 

“Shit!”

“Do you want me to help you?” Tyler asks and he’s no longer laughing, which is something that Dylan is thankful for. His face is plenty red and he thinks he’s embarrassed himself enough for one night, he doesn’t need Tyler laughing at him for the remainder of their date.

Exhaling sharply, Dylan turns and nods his head slightly, pouting. “Would you?”

A smile tugs at the corners of Tyler’s mouth and he nods slightly, opening the door before coming in, letting it bang shut behind him. He sets his bat against the fence and comes up behind Dylan, pressing his body against the other man’s back. 

“First,” he says, wrapping his hands around Dylan’s, “you need to hold the bat a little better than that. Grip the handle tightly and bend your knees a little more. That’s it, just like that. Now, your elbows. You look awkward standing like you did before because they weren’t bent enough. No, no… like this.” Tyler moves his hands to Dylan’s elbows and helps bend them so that his forearm is pressing against his bicep. “See? Tight, like that.”

Dylan’s body gets hot all over when Tyler instructs him on how to stand and he tries his hardest to focus on the words coming out of his mouth but, as soon as he hears the word “tight,” Dylan’s mind goes in the gutter.

“Now all you need to do is spread your legs a little.” When he says this, Tyler puts his hands on Dylan’s hips and gently touches the side of his foot against the other man’s calves until he pushes them apart enough. “Good, now let’s try that again.”

When Tyler steps back, Dylan stays in position and flexes his fingers around the handle of the bat, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He watches the ball come out and swings right when it comes to him, hearing the sharp crack as it collides with the bat. A second later, he feels it in his palms.

Tyler claps his hands and laughs. “That was great, Dylan!”

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees, laughing breathlessly as he looks at Tyler, “but my palms feel like they’re on fire. How the fuck do you do this every day?”

“I wear gloves.” Shrugging, Tyler pulls Dylan out of the way and grabs his own bat, getting into position before the next ball comes barreling toward him. He swings and it connects, the ball cracking loudly against the bat before it clinks against the fence ahead of them.

He swings the bat a few times, warming his arms up, while he waits for another ball to come and, once it does, he hits it. They listen to the noise as it hits the fence and Dylan bites his lower lip, slipping a hand to the front of his jeans, pressing his palm against his half-hard cock. There’s something about watching Tyler swing a fucking bat that turns him on and that always has. He’s not sure how much longer he can watch Tyler without jumping on him.

After Tyler his the third ball, Dylan is done. He tosses his bat onto the ground and pulls his helmet off, throwing it against the fence, which gets Tyler’s attention. He moves forward when the other man turns and pushes him against the opposite side of the cage. Dylan’s fingers wrap around the soft leather of Tyler’s jacket as he leans up and bridges that small amount of space between them to kiss the other man softly, ignoring the sound of another baseball whirring past them.

The kiss lasts for a moment before Dylan pulls away, licking his lips as he backs away, jumping back toward the door in fear of being hit with another baseball. Tyler’s eyes follow him the entire way and he smirks, glancing toward the pitching machine before taking a step forward, one hand curling around Dylan’s hip.

“What was that for?”

Dylan blinks and swallows thickly. “The kiss? Because you’re hot, dude,” he mutters and bites at the skin of his lip, teeth grazing over his slowly. He can still taste Tyler and he wants to kiss him again, to drown in every inch of him.

Another baseball zooms past them and hits the fence.

“Come on,” Tyler says softly, dragging the tip of his tongue along his lower lip as he leans down to kiss Dylan again. This kiss is short and Tyler pulls away before Dylan has the chance to react, a smirk on his face as he drops his hand. He opens the door and steps out, taking his helmet off before tossing it into the cage.

It takes Dylan a moment to move but once he’s realized that he’s alone in the cage, he follows Tyler out and grabs his hand, pulling him over toward the darker part of the cages. Once they’re out of the lights, Dylan pushes Tyler against one of the fences and starts kissing him again, biting and sucking on the older man’s lips.

As they kiss, Dylan moves his hands underneath Tyler’s shirt and presses both palms against his stomach, moaning at how warm his skin is. He also doesn’t think about Tyler’s abs or the fact that he really,  _really_  wants to lick them; just keeps kissing him until they have to break away for air.

Tyler chuckles breathlessly and touches the bottom of Dylan’s hoodie. “Do you want to move this somewhere else?”

“I can’t wait that long,” Dylan replies as he takes a step back, pulling his jacket over his head before tossing it onto the ground. He moves forward again and moves his hands along Tyler’s stomach, slipping them up and over his chest, pushing his jacket off his shoulders.

“We’re in a public place, with cameras.”

Shrugging, Dylan bites his lip and swallows. “If we get into that car right now, I will end up jumping onto you or giving you a blowjob while you drive,” he mutters, pulling the leather down Tyler’s arm before letting it drop. “And then we’ll get into a wreck and you’ll die.”

“And we can’t have that,” Tyler hums as he moves his hands along Dylan’s shoulders before dropping them down, curling his fingers around the hem of his t-shirt. “Just make sure we stay in the dark. I don’t want to be caught on tape and have the owner show it to my boss.”

Dylan nods. He understands what Tyler is saying, even through his lust-filled brain, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize his career. If the Giants lose Tyler, they’ll be fucked and, well, Dylan doesn’t want that. 

When Tyler starts to lift his shirt, Dylan raises his arms above his head and shivers, feeling the soft cotton slide along his torso. Up his arms and over his head before it’s lifted off and tossed onto the ground with their jackets. He takes a deep breath and moves his hands to the front of Tyler’s jeans, making quick work of his belt buckle and the button, biting the tip of his tongue as he pulls the zipper down slowly.

“Have you ever done this before?” Dylan asks quietly and glances up at Tyler.

“What, fucked someone at the batting cages?” When Dylan moans a soft _‘yes,’_  Tyler laughs and shakes his head, running his hands along the other man’s bare arms, fingers dragging across his muscles. “No, I haven’t,” he whispers and licks his lips quickly, feeling the denim of his jeans slide down his legs.

Taking his boots off is awkward and Tyler nearly falls over, laughing as he holds himself up, fingers hooked around the links in the fence. He kicks the clothes away and moves away from the fence to lift his shirt, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothing on the ground.

“Your turn,” he mutters and hooks a finger around one of Dylan’s belt loops, tugging him closer before moving a hand between them. Tyler pops the button quickly and kisses Dylan as he pulls the zipper down, biting at his upper lip before sucking on it, eliciting a moan from the younger man.

A shudder passes through Dylan and he closes his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose as he kisses Tyler roughly, moving a hand to his hair, fingers tangling in it. He pulls him closer, moaning as he parts his lips and drags his tongue along Tyler’s bottom lip until he, too, opens his mouth. Once he does, Dylan licks into it and cups the back of his head, moaning into the kiss when Tyler grips his cock through his boxers.

Dylan pulls away and presses his forehead against Tyler’s chest. “Fuck,” he pants and swallows thickly, running both hands along the older man’s arms, feeling his biceps. “You are too fucking hot to be real.”

“Well I am,” Tyler mutters as he works on pushing Dylan’s jeans down as far as he can before leaning down, lips brushing against his ear. “You wanna take your pants off now or am I the only one who gets to stand around in my boxers?”

Laughing, Dylan takes a step back and bends down to pull his shoes off, tossing them to the side before yanking his jeans over his feet. He lets the denim fall onto the ground and swallows thickly, running a hand along the waistband of his boxers, looking up at Tyler with a soft smile.

“Is that better?”

“Much.” Smirking, Tyler moves forward and kisses Dylan’s lips softly before trailing his mouth down, pressing kisses to every inch of skin between his mouth and shoulder. When he gets to Dylan’s shoulder, Tyler bites down on his skin and ghosts a hand over the front of his boxers, pressing the heel against his cock, reveling in the noise he pulls from Dylan’s throat. 

The hand in Tyler’s hair tightens and Dylan groans. “Tease,” he mutters and lets out a breathless chuckle as a hand wraps around his cock, stroking him through the fabric. “Jesus. Oh  _fuck_ , Tyler.”

Humming quietly, Tyler drops to his knees and presses a kiss to Dylan’s stomach as he curls his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. He nips at Dylan’s skin before moving down to kiss his hip, breathing in deeply as he moves across to the other one, dragging his teeth alone the bone. When Dylan gasps his name and pulls his hair harder, Tyler chuckles and shoves his boxers down around his ankles, running both hands along the outsides of Dylan’s legs.

“Christ, could you  _not_  with the teasing?” The words come out soft and Tyler laughs again, shrugging as he moves down to kiss the side of Dylan’s cock, lifting a hand to wrap around the base. Another gasp leaves Dylan’s throat and he clenches his eyes shut, feeling exposed out in the open with Tyler’s mouth on his cock but when those lips wrap around the head, Dylan forgets where they are.

Tyler smiles and drags the tip of his tongue along the head of Dylan’s cock, stroking the shaft slowly as he takes another inch into his mouth. He starts to suck softly and drags his fingertips along the length of Dylan’s thigh, humming around him as he takes another inch. 

Hunching forward, Dylan moves a hand between Tyler’s shoulder blades and sinks his fingertips into the smooth skin. He can feel his muscles working as he starts to bob his head and, fuck, he’s not sure how long he’s going to last. Having Tyler give him a blowjob was something he’d dreamed about since their first meeting and he hadn’t lasted long the few times he jerked off to the thought.

Dylan swallows and runs his fingers through Tyler’s hair. “Fuck, your mouth… feels so amazing,” he moans, gasping after when he feels the entire length of his cock slide into Tyler’s mouth and who would have guessed he could do that? Not Dylan.

A muffled chuckle comes from Tyler and Dylan’s body shudders again when he feels the vibration against his cock. He starts to move his hips, slowly at first, and cups the back of Tyler’s head with both hands, steadily fucking into his mouth as he feels two hands go his ass, fingers digging in roughly. 

“I want you…” Dylan gasps out, pushing his cock into Tyler’s mouth all the way, biting down on his lower lip roughly until he’s calm enough to speak again. “I want you to fuck me,” he rasps, fingers carding through Tyler’s hair over and over before Dylan slides both hands down his back.

Tyler swallows around Dylan and pulls back when he straightens up, giving the head of his cock one last, long lick before standing up with a grin. He palms himself through his boxers and bends down to grab his jeans, rummaging through the pocket before coming back with a condom.

At the sight of the condom, Dylan snorts and bites his lip. “Does that mean you thought I was easy and I’d have sex with you on the first date?”

“No,” Tyler answers, rolling a shoulder. “I just thought I’d be prepared for anything and, besides, who doesn’t carry a condom on them whenever they go on a date?”

Pursing his lips, Dylan shrugs and moves over to the fence, pressing himself against it as he sticks his ass out to Tyler. He looks over his shoulder and smirks, raising his eyebrows in a “what are you waiting for?” gesture, rolling his lip between his teeth when Tyler comes over, running a hand along his ass.

“Don’t suppose you have lube in your jeans, too?” Dylan asks as he closes his eyes, taking in a sharp breath when Tyler spreads his ass. A fingertip runs along his rim and Dylan gasps lightly, curling his fingers around the metal links, breathing in deeply through his nose.

Tyler kisses Dylan’s shoulder and shakes his head. “I didn’t think about that,” he mutters, lips brushing along the other man’s skin as he rubs his entrance slowly, listening to Dylan gasp again. “But…”

“But  _what?_ ”

“I could get you ready with my tongue,” Tyler whispers and Dylan moans, pushing himself back against the finger pressing against him. He swallows and nods his head a little too enthusiastically, feeling his cheeks burn when Tyler laughs at him, the sound warm and vibrating against his shoulder.

After pressing one last kiss to Dylan’s shoulder, Tyler drops to his knees and bites at the base of Dylan’s spine, spreading his ass again. He breathes in deeply and leans in, pressing the tip of his tongue against the other man’s entrance, smirking when he hears him gasp. Dylan’s noises have become Tyler’s favourite and he loves hearing them, loves knowing that he’s the one causing them.

Tyler continues to lick Dylan slowly. He drags his tongue up, then down, and presses the tip inside of him before adding a finger in beside it. As he works the digit in and out quickly, Tyler listens to Dylan gasp and moan his name, one of his hands going to his hair, fingers tightening in it.

Chuckling, Tyler adds a second finger and slips them into Dylan slowly, working them apart as he pulls them out. He licks between them and groans loudly when he feels nails scarping along his scalp, his cock hard and throbbing in his boxers. A third finger is added when Dylan begs for it and Tyler scissors them slowly, pulling them out until just the tips are still inside before closing them and sliding them back in quickly.

“Fuck,” Dylan pants, over and over, as he pushes himself back against Tyler’s finger and tongue, biting down on his lower lip. “I think — think I’m ready.”

When he hears those words, Tyler stands up and opens the condom wrapper with his teeth, spitting the trash on the ground. He slowly pulls his fingers out of Dylan and pushes his boxers down around his ankles, taking the condom out of the package, letting it fall to the ground at his feet. Swallowing, Tyler rolls the latex down over his cock and bites back a groan, making sure it’s snug at the base before spreading Dylan’s ass again.

“Sure you’re ready?”

Dylan huffs and nods, moaning out, “Yes. Fuck, yes, just fuck me.”

Tyler chuckles and spits on his palm, stroking his cock before pressing the tip against Dylan’s entrance, biting the edge of his lip. He slides in and wraps a hand around the other man’s hip, holding on tightly as he groans at the tight heat. It takes him a moment to sink all the way into Dylan and, when he does, Tyler leans his body over the other’s, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Come on,” Dylan moans impatiently, ”start moving.”

Rolling his eyes, Tyler starts to pull out and gets halfway before pushing his hips back against Dylan’s ass, gasping. “Tight,” he mutters and chuckles, breath falling hot against the other man’s neck. He presses his forehead between Dylan’s shoulders and starts moving his hips, groaning when he pulls his cock out before sliding it back in quickly.

A loud gasp fills the air and Dylan moves his hand back, scrabbling at Tyler’s hip before finding purchase, sinking his fingernails into flesh. He rotates his hips slowly and straightens up as much as he can, using the fence to keep himself upright while Tyler thrusts into him quickly.

Sex with Tyler Hoechlin is a thousand times different than Dylan imagined and his head is spinning, his thoughts all over the place. He’s focusing on the cock in his ass and then the breath falling against his skin, the hand on his hip and the one moving along his lower abdomen. Light touches just underneath his navel, fingertips tracing the fine line of hair running down to his cock.

“Christ,” he groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto the fence. When Tyler starts to fuck him harder, it starts creaking and Dylan lets out a quiet laugh that tapers off into a moan, feeling Tyler’s hips against his ass. “Tyler, fuck…  _oh_. Your cock feels — ” a quiet huff ” — amazing.”

Tyler bites at Dylan’s shoulder and sucks on the mark, moaning loudly. “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers, groaning as he pulls his cock out before slamming in quickly, holding onto Dylan’s hip roughly. “Fuck, not going to… not gonna last long.”

The words come out in a rushed breath and Dylan’s body starts to tremble. He moves back against Tyler and digs his fingernails into the skin of his hip, holding on as he fucks him harder. A loud gasp escapes when Tyler changes angles and Dylan moves his hand away, shoving the older man’s hand down to his cock with a desperate “please.”

Getting the idea, Tyler wraps his fingers around Dylan’s cock and starts to stroke him in time with each thrust, squeezing the base lightly. He moves up and nips at the base of his neck, breathing harshly against it, whispering Dylan’s name and mixing it with a mantra of curse words.

One last thrust. A handful of strokes and Dylan comes, gasping and moaning Tyler’s name loudly, his fingers tightening around his wrist and the fence as his body shudders. He pants and turns his head, pressing it against his forearm as Tyler continues to fuck him, his thrusts becoming hard and shallow, his breath coming in harsher pants.

“Fuck,” Tyler moans through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna…” A loud moan cuts him off and Tyler slams his hips forward, pressing them against Dylan’s ass as he gasps, breathing hard against his skin. He drops his hand away from the other man’s cock and wraps it around his hip, his own stuttering forward one last time. Tyler moans Dylan’s name and kisses the back of his neck, dragging his lips across his shoulder.

Dylan laughs weakly and licks his lips. “Jesus,” he sighs and swallows, suddenly very aware that his mouth is dry, along with his lips. He licks them and swallows again, moving his hand to touch the back of Tyler’s head, his fingers shaking. “You good?”

A low hum pulls from Tyler’s chest and he nods.

“Good,” Dylan replies and laughs again, dropping his hand as the two of them stand there, recovering from their orgasms. After a few minutes, though, Tyler pulls out and Dylan makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, pouting as he attempts to turn around but ends up falling instead. “Whoops.”

Tyler bites his lip and chuckles. “Let’s clean all of this up and get out of here,” he says and takes the condom off, tying it before bending down to pull his boxers up, letting the elastic snap against his hips. When the cotton drags across his still-too-sensitive cock, Tyler bites back a moan and goes to pick up his and Dylan’s clothing.

They start getting dressed in silence and Tyler helps Dylan to his feet, holding him close until he’s confident his date won’t fall over and crash into the ground like he did before. Once all of their clothes are on, Tyler takes Dylan back to the car and grabs a few rags from the trunk before going inside to clean Dylan’s come off the fence. He throws the rags, condom, and the wrapper away before going back to the car, sighing as he slides in behind the wheel.

“Best first date ever,” Dylan mumbles sleepily and Tyler nods in agreement, laughing as he starts the engine before backing out of their parking spot. He pulls out onto the road and starts driving back to Dylan’s, glancing at him every few minutes, smiling when he sees him passed out on the seat.

When they get back to Dylan’s place, Tyler pulls into the driveway and leaves the car running as he gets out. He goes over to the passenger side and pulls Dylan out, lifting him into his arms before carrying him up the porch, laughing quietly when he nuzzles his neck. 

At the door, Tyler hits the doorbell with his elbow and listens to Tyler come down the stairs, watching his silhouette from behind the glass. He opens the door a minute later and Tyler smiles at him, taking Dylan instead once the door is open enough. 

“Dude,” Tyler says when he shuts the door behind them, following Hoechlin into the living room, where he lays Dylan on the couch. “What happened to him?”

Chuckling, Hoechlin runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I guess I tired him out,” he replies and turns to smirk at Dylan’s roommate, licking his lips quickly as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “When he wakes up, let him know that I’ll call him later.”

With that, Tyler heads to the door and looks back at Dylan, who’s curled up on the cushions, and he smirks slightly. He goes outside and gets into the car, dragging his teeth along the skin of his lower lip, as he thinks about the night he had with Dylan, shaking his head.

Tyler hopes that no one on the team hears about what he did or he’ll never be able to live it down.


End file.
